The Good, the Bad, and the Draco
by Anise
Summary: Draco, Ginny, a snowy day, illegally summoned demons... what could possibly go wrong?


THE GOOD, THE BAD, AND THE DRACO

For DesertIsle, in the D/G Forum Christmas Flash Secret Santa Exchange . The prompt words were blizzard, mistletoe, cocoa. And YES, it's a short Anisefic. There's also art.

DracoandGinnydotcom/photos/a.677169935636640.1073741827.108984505788522/1679239732096317/?type=3&theater

 **and**

 **DracoandGinnydotcom/photos/a.677169935636640.1073741827.108984505788522/1679241415429482/?type=3 &theater **

Draco quietly unlatched the small back gate and walked across the snowy ground, his hair ruffling in the sudden gusts of icy wind. He was protected by a decent Warming charm, but this edge of the Manor's grounds lay up against the magical part of the forest behind it, and one could never be sure that newer spells were entirely reliable here. There was a reason for him to be here, of course, and he smiled when he thought of it.

Ginny was staying in the neighboring village; there had been too many spells cast on Malfoy Manor to keep out Weasleys over the centuries for him to be sure that he'd got rid of all of them, even now. But they had been meeting every day, and he'd asked Ginny to meet him in the clearing this morning, knowing that the ancient magic would let her through even if more recent hexes kept her out. Draco felt a sudden flush of pleasant warmth when he thought of the reason, and the cold surrounding him seemed to retreat. He could hardly believe that they were back together again, together for the first time as adults, as anything but scared and rebellious teenagers, too old for their years, shaped by the war that nearly destroyed their world. Their frantic emotions that were too much of a jumble to even begin to understand at the time. Had there been love? Well, perhaps. But it had been too much, too fast. His own emotions had frightened him. Ginny was braver than he in that area, but her rejection of everything her mother had taught her about saving herself for marriage had certainly frightened her. And they had split apart, driven partly by circumstance but more by their own fears.

They'd found each other now, years later, after her divorce from Potter and his from Astoria. And between that divorce ending his hasty, early marriage and his disgrace in the wizarding world, he no longer cared what people thought. Neither did she. They had come together again, and their relationship, of whatever it really was, was as sweet as a butterfly in winter—but Draco sometimes feared that it might be just as brief and ephemeral. He wished that he could trust Ginny, trust that what they felt for one another was enough. _But I don't trust anyone_ , he thought ruefully, continuing to trudge forward, his boots making little crunching noises in the snow. It's not in my nature. _That can change, though, can't it? I've got to believe that it can._

When he rounded the curve and walked out into the clearing behind the rose gardens, Ginny was already there, rolling a smaller ball of snow to place on top of two larger ones. Her face lit up when she saw him.

"What do you think?" she asked. "I haven't made a snowman in ages."

"It looks fine," he said, a bit awkwardly. The elves were supposed to already _be_ here. And it was cold. He knew that he sounded uncommunicative, and she raised her eyebrows on him.

"So why did you ask me here?" she said, patting the top snowball into place.

"You'll see," said Draco.

Ginny stepped closer, one arm snaking around his waist.

"Well, if you don't want to tell me…" she purred.

Draco was just beginning to think about how much warmer it seemed to be getting when an icy shock ran down his back, and a bit lower, if truth be told. Ginny looked at him with an impish grin.

"You've just stuffed snow down the back of my trousers," he said incredulously.

"I always knew that my friends were wrong when they said you weren't the brightest Illumination hex on the tree back at school," she called back to him, moving back to the snowman.

Was she angry? Was she joking? Was she… wait, which friends did she mean by that remark? Granger, or Lovegood, or… _Potter?_

Awful thoughts flashed through his head, and even as they did, he knew they were unfair. Ginny hadn't been happy with the Yuletide gifts he'd given her, that must be it, and who could blame her? Her real gifts hadn't arrived in time. He'd only been able to give her a few things. Pitifully few, from a Malfoy, and he knew it. Fresh flowers and rare plants, which had made her eyes light up, but she couldn't possibly have been truly impressed. Strange technology obtained by a wizard with a shifty glance and a stealthy step who had a tiny shop in the back of Knockturn Alley. He had a habit of muttering something under his breath about _as if I'm not asked to do enough Time Travel spells before Yuletide, and it's not as if they're precisely looked upon kindly by the law, you know. But_ Tempisby always came through, and he'd provided Draco with armloads of odd gifts that he had hoped Ginny would like, even if they'd be required to keep them from the Ministry, not as if that was anything out of the ordinary when it came to many of the contents of Malfoy Manor. He really had no idea what a Galaxy 8 was, or something known as a GHTC-**.9 that was less than a centimeter in diameter but unfolded into a self-driving car, not to mention a round little thing called an Echo Dot that Ginny kept addressing as "Alexa" and that answered her in a light, pleasant female voice. Ginny had seemed to like all the forbidden Muggle technology… but then again, perhaps she was only being polite.

She was humming and ignoring him now, working on the snowman, putting in small black rocks for eyes and buttons, adding a hat.

The lantern she was holding was swaying in the wind; her scarf was whipping round her face. Then the impulse came to him. It was more than he could bear. He threw the snowball. She howled as it hit her shoulder. But she was smiling too; he was sure about that; and anyway, he was filled with guilt as soon as he'd done it. He was never so impulsive, never in his life. His every act had always been carefully thought out and considered. What was it about Ginny that always made him feel like his control was so tenuous, so close to slipping out of his hands, just as that damn snowball had done?

A small gasp came at his elbow. He whipped round to see that all of Santa's elves had finally showed up scattered round the clearing, and they had chosen that exact moment. It was a bit embarrassing, but still salvageable. The head elf strode forward, brightly wrapped package in hand, and Draco began to relax.

And then he heard the footsteps. Heavy, ominous, crackling the snow. Thoughts flashed through his head. _It's Santa Claus. And I specifically requested that only the elves show up… Oh, dear. He can't be in a very good mood. Three days after Yuletide, he's always at his crankiest. Well, if I agree to donate toys to orphans or some such soppy thing, surely it'll be all right…_

But when he raised his eyes and saw who was really standing before him, he had a perfectly Malfoy-like cowardly moment when all he wanted to do was take to his heels.

No matter what sort of rotten mood Santa might have been in, he couldn't have begun to compare to the glowering creature who really stood before him, half goat and half demon and all brassed off. Draco was looking at Krampus, the sinister Yuletide figure who punished misbehaving children. He was no right jolly old elf, all rosy cheeks and red velvet suit. He was thin and austere and had glaring, blazing eyes, goat's hooves for feet, and enormous curled horns.

And the demon didn't look happy.

"Who hath disturbed my post-Yuletide slumber?" demanded Krampus, in a voice scraped from the darkest pits of hell.

"Post- Yuletide- slumber?" squeaked Draco, his voice rising with each word. "I'm dreadfully sorry. I'm sure we didn't mean to do any such thing. But I don't quite, er, understand…"

Krampus surveyed him keenly. "Thy father did not tell thee, then?"

"Ah… Father never really told me much of anything important," Draco said honestly.

The demon swept a gnarled hand over the forest behind the clearing. "That land at Malfoy Manor that is most ancient, is mine."

"Oh. I'm sure we could work something out—"

"And it is my spring resting place," added Krampus, his nostrils flaring dangerously.

"Er…" Damn Lucius Malfoy for never being willing to share the details of real estate with him, though Draco.

"So punishment there must be. But for whom?" barked the demon.

Oh, this was not going to go well.

Draco saw with dread that Ginny was opening her mouth. With her usual blind stubbornness, that utterly idiotic desire to throw herself into danger that she kept insisting on referring to as 'bravery", she was about to get herself in trouble that she couldn't imagine. Without thinking, because if he had stopped to think, he would have thought better of it, Draco spoke.

'I did it," he blurted.

Krampus surveyed him through eyes with dark pupils slitted like a goat, and a smile played at the edges of his mouth. "Very well," he said, and he pointed one long finger at Draco. "Thou art eternally cursed to remain on Santa's Naughty List!"

He was never quite sure what happened next. There was a loud boom, and some sort of explosion, and then Ginny was crying out in dismay and he seemed to be falling back and hitting the snow. He thought he had a vague memory of her hauling him onto a sleigh provided by one of the elves, and then it all went dark.

He awoke to the soft feel of a fur rug under his back, and the sweet taste of hot cocoa in a cup Ginny held to his lips. Blinking at the firelight, he sat up.

"Are you all right?" asked Ginny, looking worried.

Being cursed by the Yuletide incarnation of the Horned God of Witches almost, _almost_ seemed worthwhile when he felt Ginny's arm supporting him and saw her pretty face pressed close to his. Also, he glimpsed a sprig of mistletoe dangling over the fireplace, which might be useful later on.

"I think so," he croaked, sipping more cocoa. "How did you manage to get the back door open?"

She sat back on her heels. "Oh, the locks all recognized me. I don't think you need to worry about those anti-Weasley hexes anymore. Unless that wasn't the real reason why you didn't want me to stay here, Draco." There was a slight edge to her voice.

He cleared his throat. "Of course it wasn't, Ginny."

She sighed and moved to lie down on the fur rug in front of the fire. "What on earth happened?"

Truth might actually serve him best in this instance, he realized. _What a concept._

"It was all part of a plan for your Yuletide presents," said Draco. "I'd arranged for the elves to show up with a collection of jewelry. One was supposed to carry a diamond tennis bracelet, the next matching earrings, and then the last two a necklace, brooch, and cocktail ring set. But then Krampus had to come along…" He sighed. "I suppose I should have known it wouldn't work. We were too close to the part of the forest that carries ancient magic to not expect difficulties to arise."

Ginny giggled. "It's the thought that counts."

"But I wasn't able to give you those presents, your real Yuletide gifts," Draco said earnestly. "Everything else I gave you was completely substandard."

She rolled her eyes. "Draco, haven't you figured out by now that I don't particularly care about expensive jewelry?" When he didn't answer immediately, her brows swooped together in an ominous way. "You haven't! Or more likely, you just won't believe that any woman might not care about that."

"It's… difficult," admitted Draco. "Astoria—"

"I'm not Astoria," she interrupted icily.

He swallowed hard and reached down to her, covering her hand with his. "I know," he said. "Believe me, Ginny, I know."

She didn't reply, but he felt her fingers stir in his grasp, and she leaned her head against his knee.

"I'm sorry that I'll never be able to give you another present, though," she finally said.

"That's true. Nobody's allowed to ever give me a gift again," Draco said, feeling genuinely sad. Although likely not as sad if he would have felt if Ginny hadn't been smiling at him.

"I really am sorry," said Ginny. "But, er… I suppose when you get right down to it, I would've thought that you've had enough gifts in your life to make up for never receiving another one as long as you live."

"I was a pretty dreadfully spoiled child," Draco admitted. "Well… in certain ways. My mother spoiled me, at least."

"I'm really terribly sorry," said Ginny, and he knew that she was talking about more than just the fact that he'd never received another present. She looked up at him from the fur rug, and her hair shone golden and bronze in the firelight in a way that made Draco want to cut the conversation short and move on to other activities. But he forced himself to keep speaking.

"But you don't understand; it's worse than that. I'm not allowed to give gifts, either. Never again; Krampus will see to that. That's why the elves weren't allowed to give you the jewelry. And I wanted to smother you in diamonds."

"That sounds awfully uncomfortable."

"You know what I mean." He sighed. "I suppose it could have been worse. Much worse. You never know what Krampus might do."

She cocked her head to one side. "But the no-gifts rule only refers to material things, right?"

"Well… yes." Draco nearly added his query as to what other gifts there could possibly be, but wisdom intervened just in time. If only it had done before he'd taken the blame, he couldn't help thinking. But no. No, he couldn't think that, not when Ginny was reaching up and pulling his head down to hers, the scent of her skin like all the flowers in the world, her hands so strong and cool and caressing.

"So this sort of thing's all right, as a gift?" she asked when they finally surfaced for air.

"We might need to continue in order to be completely sure," he said.

It did seem to be all right, and Draco found that he didn't much mind being permanently barred from receiving gifts for the rest of his life, after all. He was determined to get round the ban on giving them, though. Santa would doubtless refuse to make a deal if he knew about this, but surely Krampus couldn't be immune to a bit of bribery. Bumblesby could doubtless take care of it. He'd mumbled something about an odd gadget called an Iphone X when Draco had been arranging Ginny's Yuletide presents, and he knew how much demons loved illegal technology.

THE END.


End file.
